Blue as Red as Blood
by II PermaFrost II
Summary: France had always been a lot of things. But never this. A drabble about Francis during the French Revolution.


Disclaimer: I do not and never will own any part or portion of Axis-Powers Hetalia nor will I make monetary profit from this purely fan based story.

Hey guys! Nido here!  
So the other night I was struck with the urge to write about Francis during the French Revolution! As you can see it's not very long but I actually really kinda like it!  
Soo.. Have at it!

**Blue as Red as Blood**

_By: Nido_

"Vive la révolution…"

France had always been many things.

It had been graced by the glorious golden light of the sun, blessed by the life giving rains and seemingly touched by the hand of God himself. Lush green grass had lined the smooth stone roads and the warm smell of baking bread permeated the air. The people had frolicked gaily and danced to the dulcet tones of love, fashion and prosperity.

France had always been an annoying, French speaking, inappropriate letch who took pride in how shiny his hair was, how soft and clean his skin was and how perfectly matched and rumple free his always fashionable clothes were.

France had been his bully and his brother, his ally and his enemy, his friend and his lover. No matter what he had been, he had always been _there_ in some way.

"Vive la révolution…"

Now the sun was obscured by black clouds of smoke and ash and the rain choked the rivers with mud and soot. The green grass was gone, burned away by flames of anger, the stone roads cracked and broken, leading to dead ends and the sickly sweet smell of death settled heavily in the air. The people marched and ran, their voices harsh and raw with hate and poverty.

"_Vive la révolution_…"

France had always been many things. But he had never been like this.

"_Vive_ la révolution…"

His long golden hair was chopped and matted with blood and dirt, clinging to his face and neck in sticky reddish clumps. Ugly purple bruises marred the once pristine skin, mud was smeared across his cheek, thick blood ran down his face and neck from under his hair; it was caked on his chapped lips despite the saliva that dribbled from his mouth and his breath rattled through a throat clogged with sickness and ashes of the dead. His clothing, once so perfect and smooth hung raggedly on his thin, broken frame; torn and stained with filth.

"Vive… La _**révolution--**_!"

England sidestepped the dish thrown at him, barely hearing it shatter against the wall over the horrible broken screams that ripped through France's throat. He watched as France screamed again and clutched at his head with broken and bleeding fingers. He watched as France stumbled into the wall of the once beautiful house and wailing, clawed at the walls with fingernails he didn't have.

"Francis--"

The tarnished silver candlestick holder seemed to explode as it struck the wall behind England, having been hurled at the nation by a strength born of pure insanity.

"Sortez! _**Sortez**_!" France screeched across the wrecked room, blood bubbling from his lips and dripping thickly to the floor.

A hand pressed to his mouth, England felt vomit rise in his throat and tears burn his eyes; neither of which were caused by the stench and smoky haze in the air.

"Francis!" England tried again, taking a step towards the broken being in the corner. "Francis you need-" This time it was a picture frame that whistled past England's head and broke against the wall.

"Je n'ai **pas **besoin de **vous**!" Screaming again and wrapping his arms around himself, France fell against the wall once more, striking his head against the hard surface several times, fingers tearing what was left of his shirt and ripping open wounds on his arms.

Horrified England ran forward and grabbed France by the top of his arms, hauling him away from the wall and shaking him.

"Francis! Get a hold of yourself!" He commanded. Fevered, blood streaked blue eyes stared furiously back at him and he was answered with a screech and thin, bony wrists striking his chest.

"**Laissez **moi **aller**! Je **n'ai **pas besoin de _**vous**_! _**Vive la révolution**_…" The sharp crack sounded alongside the crazed screams of the French nation as England staggered backward, a bloody streak across his face from the hand France had struck him with.

"Vive la révolution! Vive la révolution! **Vive **la **Révolution**---! _**AUUUUUGGHHH**_!" France screamed again and clutched at his head, clawed at his face, pulled on his hair, threw himself against the wall --- And England fled the room.

He skidded into the wall across from the room and with France's screams ringing in his ears, he ran down the hall, closing his eyes so as to not see the tattered remains of what was once beautiful.  
England stumbled down the stairs of the once glorious house and ran yelling through the door already hanging on broken hinges.

"**Laissez moi aller! Je n'ai pas besoin de **_**vous**_**! **_**Vive la révolution**_! Vive… La _**révolution--**_!"

~~~ End

If you're French and notice any errors I made in my writing or translations, please let me know! French is my second Language, but I don't use it nearly as often as I should XD;;;  
Thank you orangepencils and Sophie for the French correction!!

Vive la révolution - Long live the revolution

Sortez - Get out

Je n'ai pas besoin de vous - I don't need you

Laissez moi aller - Let go of me


End file.
